Bleak Birth
by Sanaryelle
Summary: Mysterious events surround the birth of Sabriel.
1. Prophecy

_A/N: Who was Sabriel's mother? Why does Terciel say that his wife "would have lived if she had loved another"? Why did she die in childbirth? This story takes place before the prologue of _Sabriel

_Thanks for the correction, Lady!_

_Disclaimer: None of this is mine. I got to name Sabriel's mother, but you will see that even her name is not entirely mine._

**Chapter 1: Prophecy**

Abhorsen let out a clear whistle, and the Paperwing banked, coming to a smooth landing in the hangar. Two green Paperwings slept nearby, their painted eyes dull and lifeless. Abhorsen vaulted out of his blue and silver Paperwing, and tenderly helped the woman who had been sitting behind him out of the craft. Once she was safely on the ground, Abhorsen buckled his ever-present sword and bells over his fur coat.

Four women emerged from the darkness at the end of the hangar. The eldest stepped forward and dropped into a curtsey. "You are most welcome, Lord Abhorsen, as is your lovely wife."

Abhorsen grinned and bowed in return. "Hello, Filris," he said cheerfully.

"I take it you will not be staying?" a tall, willowy Clayr asked shrewdly.

"No," replied Abhorsen. "I do not think that Sabrine could handle the Starmount Stair, in her condition."

His wife playfully swatted his arm, one hand unconsciously going to her belly. "That is why we came, actually," the woman told the Clayr. "We wanted to know if you have Seen anything of our child."

The Clayr exchanged glances full of meaning. Filris opened her mouth to speak, but broke off as a young blonde girl suddenly darted through the crowd of adults, ran right up to Abhorsen, and stared unabashedly at his face with large blue eyes. An older girl came dashing after her.

"I'm sorry, Granny," the older girl panted. "She got away from me again."

"Keep a closer watch on your sister, Kirrith," scolded Filris.

Kirrith nodded and took the child's hand firmly in hers, tugging the little girl away from Abhorsen. "C'mon, Arielle," she said bossily. The child kept staring solemnly at Abhorsen over her shoulder even as she was led away.

When the girls had gone, Filris heaved a long-suffering sigh. "I apologize, Abhorsen."

The man laughed. "No harm done," he assured her. The Abhorsen waved a pale hand, and the piled drifts of snow swirled and hardened into icy chairs. He led his wife over to one, helping her to sit before settling down in the chair next to hers. The Clayr took the makeshift seats gratefully.

"So," said Filris in a businesslike way, "You came to ask about your daughter."

"A daughter!" Sabrine exclaimed, sharing a happy smile with her husband.

"Yes," the willowy Clayr confirmed. "A girl dark of hair and eye. She will be Abhorsen. She will not be Abhorsen. She may be Abhorsen."

"Possible futures," Filris explained. "If Abhorsen, she will look on Kerrigor's body."

A silence fell as the expectant parents digested this information. "She will slay Kerrigor?" Abhorsen asked quietly.

"We do not See him being destroyed," elucidated the willowy Clayr. "We Saw your daughter looking down on his face. We do not know where."

"That will come in time," another Clayr stated sharply. "Protect your daughter. For the good of the Kingdom, she must live."

The young man and woman nodded, and Abhorsen took Sabrine's hand resolutely.

Hidden near the doorway, a young woman pondered over what she had just heard. This information would be important to someone. Perhaps if she told him this, he would release her sister's spirit from his hold. She crept back to the Starmount Stair, taking care not to be seen. A message needed be sent at once.

_A/N: Who is the eavesdropper, and who is she sending the message to? You'll find out later – for now, reviews are most welcome!_


	2. Crows

_A/N: Cue music, dim lights… and enter our Creepy Villain!_

_Disclaimer: None of this is mine; the Old Kingdom belongs to Garth Nix. But I got to name the villain, at least._

**Chapter 2: Crows**

Caim placed the exhausted message-hawk on a branch. The necromancer's mind was in tumult over what he had heard. His pitiful spy among the Clayr had told him something useful at last! So, Abhorsen's unborn child could one day look upon his master's face? That would not do.

Caim made sure that he was alone in the woods, before entering Death. The familiar tug around his legs was icier than any stream in Life, but he paid the cold no heed. Caim had evaded Death for two centuries, and the current was especially strong, seeking to pull him under. He stood still in the water, and closed his eyes to augment his concentration.

All across the First Precinct, spirits he had been gathering for years rose from where he had bound them. These were spirits of a certain kind, and Caim had kept them for such a purpose. Sloshing forward in the freezing water, the necromancer drew his sword and Saraneth. The Abhorsen's House was too well-defended to attack it with an army of Dead Hands. No, he had something else in mind for this.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Kneeling in the dirt of the kitchen garden, Sabrine energetically weeded the rows of vegetables. Two sendings worked alongside her, looking strange in their black cowled robes. The woman paused in her work to wipe the sweat from her forehead. If Terciel had his way, she would be spending her days in bed, fussed over by husband and sendings. A woman could go mad in such a situation!

Sabrine tilted back her head, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her face. She always teased Terciel about his inability to tan, no matter how many times he burned.

A shadow passed over her face, and she opened her eyes. Sabrine could see several dark specks in the sky, and frowned as they grew larger, wondering what they were. As they drew closer, she realized that the vast dark shapes were alive. She had never seen something so strange, and as Abhorsen's wife, she had seen a lot.

The shapes circled ever lower, and Sabrine realized that each black speck was a flock – an entire flock! – of Gore Crows. She tried to steady her breathing. Surely the House's defenses would drive them off…

But the Crows were coming ever closer. Charter marks around the wall of the House flashed into life, and armed sendings sprang out of the stones. They strung gleaming arrows to silver bows, and trained them upon the diving Gore Crows. Weapons, like archers, were made entirely of Charter-marks.

Sabrine pushed herself to her feet, trowel dropping from her hand as she swiftly sketched a Charter mark. Her spell shot up from her hands, joining the arrows of the sendings. Black feathered bodies tumbled to the ground, and if there had been only a flock or two, they would have easily been driven off. But there were thousands of birds in the air, plummeting from the sky.

In an instant, the air was full of flapping, screeching birds. Sabrine could see nothing but feathers and white gleaming bone, and she threw up her arms to shield her head from scratching feet and pecking beaks. The two black-cowled sendings threw themselves before her, shielding her with their bodies. In under a minute they were ripped apart.

"Sabrine!" The young woman turned towards the voice, unable to answer because she was shrieking Charter spells nonstop. Crows were blasted out of the air, but still she was viciously scratched by sharp talons.

There was a shout, and a wave of power knocked the breath from her body. Dead birds flopped to the ground in showers, giving her a brief respite. Sabrine felt Terciel grab her hand, and they ran together to the kitchen garden door, Gore crows on their heels. As soon as they were inside, Abhorsen slammed it shut, leaning heavily against the stout wood as they both gasped for breath.

He approached Sabrine, concern shining in his eyes. "I'm all right," the woman assured her husband before he could speak. "Just a little scratched."

Abhorsen let out a harsh, relieved laugh, and they embraced tightly. Sabrine felt Terciel's hand on her womb, and murmured, "She's fine too. Luckily."

Her husband nodded. "Lucky. That's what I thought." He led a confused Sabrine from the kitchen into the parlor, and she sat in a chair before the fire to watch her husband pace. "Isn't is strange," he said finally, "That only a week after finding out that our daughter could be a danger to Kerrigor, our House is attacked?"

"You have many enemies," Sabrine pointed out cheekily, and her husband grinned.

"I suppose I do," he admitted before sobering. "But if this attack was aimed at you, as I believe it was, then we can expect more of the same. And I can't figure out how the Gore Crows made it past the House's protective magic."

Sabrine sat back in her chair. "No more gardening, then?"

Terciel smiled ruefully. "No more gardening."

_A/N: Well, I for one am glad they survived that attack. Is their luck to hold out? You'll find out later._


	3. Traitor

_A/N: Wow, I really seem to be on a roll with this story. I've sort of got writer's block for "Five Great Charters," so I guess this is just a project to use my creative energy. But enough chatter, on with the story!_

_Disclaimer: None of this is mine, except for the name of our traitorous Clayr. Not even Mirelle is mine – if you look hard enough, you can find her in "Lirael". Kudos to whoever finds her!_

**Chapter 3: Traitor**

Mirelle strode through the halls of the Clayr's glacier, thoughts spinning. The Abhorsen's House had been attacked! The young ranger shook her head in disbelief. Who would dare do such a thing? Rumours were circling around the Glacier that the Abhorsen's wife had been the target, for she carried the last of the line. Mirelle's lips tightened in a spasm of anger: some people were sick.

She threw a door open, stalking into the room where the messenger-hawks were kept. The ranger nodded at the only other person in the room, a young Clayr called Tildae, before selecting a hawk from the perches. Activating the hawk's Charter spell, she recited a message for her Captain who was still in the field.

The young ranger noticed Tildae watching her anxiously, something that made her senses tingle, but she did not voice her suspicions. Instead, Mirelle carried the hawk over to the enormous window that opened over the glacier, and sent the bird on its way. With a polite nod and a swift glance at Tildae, she left the room, half-closing the door behind her and walking down the hall.

When she had gone what she judged to be a sufficient distance, Mirelle turned and crept back to the doorway. Pressing herself up against the wall, she could hear Tildae's hushed voice: "…attacks are not working, even by using spirits of the Clayr. She has been Seen in the woods, alone and pregnant. I suggest you hold off your Crows and attack her there, outside the protections of the House…"

Mirelle had heard enough. She charged through the door, startling the hawks, and Tildae looked up in alarm. The ranger's hand automatically shot to the hilt of her sword. "Traitor!" she hissed. "You've been in contact with whoever's been attacking Abhorsen, right?"

The other Clayr stumbled back in fright, green eyes wide.

"You have a chance to redeem yourself," growled Mirelle, looking at the young woman in disgust. "Tell us who is behind it all. Tell us who you've been speaking to."

"I can't," Tildae sobbed. "He has my sister…" The ranger felt a flash of confusion – Tildae's sister was dead.

She looked up at the ranger, tears streaking her cheeks. "I'm… sorry," she choked. "I was not strong enough." And before Mirelle could stop her, the Clayr had climbed onto the ledge of the vast window, and plunged several hundred feet onto the icy crags below.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I need to leave the House," Sabrine proclaimed. She glowered at Terciel angrily across the telescope in the Observatory. From this position they could look down on the courtyards, which were littered with the bodies of dead Gore Crows.

"The House is safe," Abhorsen declared edgily. "We are protected here."

"Not well enough," argued his wife. "Somehow those crows got past our magical defenses. They have stopped attacking, but they will be back, or worse. The Abhorsen's House is too much of a target."

"The sendings will–"

"The sendings have all been destroyed, and take days to regenerate," Sabrine interrupted. "If something wants to get to us that badly, it will eventually find a way. Ancelstierre is safer by far."

"Provided we can get there," replied Abhorsen, his patience wearing thin. "We would be playing right into its hands if we just leave the House."

Sabrine shook her head vehemently. "Nobody would expect us to leave. It's perfect."

"No, it's foolish," Abhorsen snapped. "How did they know that our daughter could be a danger to Kerrigor? _How did they know?_"

"Maybe it's not that," reasoned Sabrine, forcing herself to speak calmly. "The fact that I am pregnant is no secret. Our child will be the last of Abhorsen's blood."

"But if the followers of Kerrigor–"

"Who's to say that they are involved?"

Husband and wife glared at each other across the room. Abhorsen crossed his arms and set his jaw stubbornly. "We're not going."

_A/N: Who do you think will win out this argument? My bet is on the pregnant woman! Sorry to kill off the traitor, but you'll see that she deserves it for what will happen later. Now, if you've read this far, I would really like a review. It's easy – just click that little blue button at the bottom of the screen. Go on!_


	4. Attack

_A/N: This is probably my favourite chapter in the whole story. I came up with this scene way before everything else. It's got two of my favourite things: action and angst. Lots of emotional material here; you know, all the good stuff!_

_Disclaimer: None of this is mine. I can't even claim the ownership of any cool names, because nobody new shows up._

**Chapter 4: Attack**

Terciel and Sabrine picked their way through the trees. It was nearly sunset, and they were only three or four miles from the Wall. Terciel had to admit that his wife's plan seemed to be working. Perhaps it was best that their daughter be born in Ancelstierre, out of the reach of his many enemies.

"Are you cold?" he asked his wife.

The woman shook her head, boots crunching on the frosty ground.

"What should we name her?" she asked suddenly.

Caught off-guard, Terciel could only shrug. "You pick a name," he grinned.

Sabrine cocked her head to the side in mock-serious thought. "Well, it should be a name fit for an Abhorsen," she mused. "Perhaps Phylliel, after your aunt?"

Terciel shook his dark head. "That will be much too confusing," he remarked. "We should have asked the Wallmakers' relict for names of past female Abhorsens."

"You do not know your Abhorsen history?" Sabrine gasped with feigned shock.

Terciel laughed and was about to reply, when his Death sense twitched. He stopped in his tracks and grabbed Sabrine's arm. He could feel them – at least thirty Dead Hands, coming steadily closer. Abhorsen put his hand to his sword and drew it, taking comfort in the familiar weight. Beside him, Sabrine nervously readied a defensive Charter spell. "Get behind me," Terciel instructed, and as she complied the first of the Dead emerged from the trees.

Abhorsen raised his sword, swiftly cutting through the rotting flesh of the first two and beheading a third. He felt a flare of magic at his back, and heard a Dead Hand scream. Terciel gave a satisfied smile; his wife could take care of herself. But they did not have the _time_ to fight – they needed to get across the Wall.

Terciel swiftly drew Ranna, and as he rang the bell the Dead wobbled on their legs, and several lay down to sleep. But there were simply too many of them, and the able-bodied ones kept attacking. Terciel was soon lost in the familiar rhythm of battle, a complex combination of sword-thrusts and Charter spells, until he had finally cleared enough space to act. He deftly drew Saraneth, and its deep booming voice froze the Dead in their tracks. Terciel replaced the bell and was about to draw Kibeth when he heard a scream.

He turned, and his heart froze. Sabrine was being lifted high up off the ground by a Shadow Hand. Dark tendrils surrounded her neck, choking her mercilessly.

Incredible anger welled up in Terciel, and the sword fell from his grasp as he shot out his arm. The Charter spell crackled into the Shadow Hand like lightning, and it dropped the woman heavily to the ground. The shadow turned to face Terciel, who bellowed another spell. A golden net sprang from his outstretched hand, enveloping the thing in ropes of yellow fire. It crumpled to the ground with a piercing shriek, and Terciel snatched up his sword. He plunged the Charter-spelled blade into the shadow's flesh, and the Hand faded as it sank into Death.

Breathing hard, Abhorsen drew Kibeth, and its song sent the frozen Dead Hands walking back to Death. He had barely finished banishing them before he sank to the frozen ground beside his wife, replacing the bell with fumbling hands.

There was blood on the woman's lips. "Sabrine?" Abhorsen pleaded gently.

She opened her eyes, and immediately winced, her hands going to her belly. "The fall," she gasped. "The baby…"

Terciel placed his hand on her womb, and was relieved to feel that spark of life still burning, weak as it was. "She lives," he assured his wife, smoothing her hair back from her forehead.

"She's coming," the woman whispered hoarsely. She grimaced in sudden pain. "A contraction… She will be born soon."

Abhorsen felt a flare of panic. "It is two moons too early!"

Sabrine nodded, and sat up with her husband's help. "Yes, but she will be born. And she will live, Charter willing, though I may not."

Terciel's protest died on his lips as he sensed a new threat approaching. "Many more Dead Hands," he whispered, "And the necromancer… coming this way…"

He turned, and his eyes met Sabrine's. They both realized what had to be done, and in an instant they were locked in a passionate kiss, knowing that it could be their last.

Man and wife got to their feet, determined to carry out their duty. "Go," Terciel whispered, and Sabrine hurried into the trees, heading in the direction of the Wall.

Abhorsen drew his sword, and turned to face the necromancer and his Dead.

_A/N: To be continued in the next chapter. Reviews, of course, are more than welcome._


	5. Caim

_A/N: Enter our villain! I've edited the past four chapters a bit, to make it flow a little better. Thanks for the suggestions, sheerWonder!_

_Disclaimer: None of this is mine. Really. Okay, so the necromancer is sort of mine, but Nix came up with all the cool necromantic details anyway._

**Chapter 5: Caim**

Terciel pulled his sword from the last Dead Hand, and put away Kibeth. He was tired, but he knew that he had one more adversary yet to face. Abhorsen's nose wrinkled at the stench of Free Magic, and all too soon a man stepped out from the shadows between the trees.

The stranger was dressed in a richly-embroidered tunic and breeches, fashionable boots and gloves of doeskin, and a fur-trimmed cape. His rather handsome face was pale as a corpse's, and his eyes were like pebbles. The necromancer executed an elaborate old-fashioned bow, sweeping a plumed velvet cap from his head. "A pleasure, and an honour, Lord Abhorsen," he said smoothly.

Terciel inclined his head minutely. He would play along with this necromancer's games, if only to give Sabrine enough time to escape. "And who might you be?" he asked coolly.

Another graceful bow. "Caim at your service, one-time Duke of the Old Kingdom. You might find me mentioned in the history annals as a companion of Kerrigor, when he was still a man. They flatter me. I would hardly call myself his companion… "lackey" would be the more appropriate term."

"Kerrigor has been in Death for nearly two hundred years," Abhorsen answered, keeping his sword at the ready. "I myself chained him beyond the Seventh Gate."

The necromancer winked impishly. "Ah, but Death is no obstacle for you and I, is that not so? I managed to locate Kerrigor, and while he could not persuade me to set him free – I know the price of such a transaction – I agreed to help his cause once more. Who knows? Perhaps he will find some other poor soul foolish enough to give his life. I remain, however, Kerrigor's faithful servant."

Abhorsen cast about for a new subject. "How did your Gore Crows get past my House's defences?" he asked finally.

Caim smiled broadly, showing his pearly teeth. "Ah, now _that_ was a stroke of genius," he said with relish. "I used spirits of the Clayr for my flocks. Your House is not defended against any of the Bloodlines. With the Free Magic of the crows' flesh, it was a bit of a gamble. But it paid off. I'm surprised that nobody thought of it before. My master will be most pleased with my ingenuity when he hears of this."

Terciel snorted derisively. "And what do you get from this relationship?" he asked.

The necromancer gave an eloquent shrug. "Nothing now, Lord Abhorsen. But when he returns – and return, he will – I shall be rewarded with power beyond any mortal's dreams. But in order to claim my reward, I must do his bidding."

"Which is?"

Caim grinned, white lips writhing back from his teeth. "Why, to kill you, and your pitiful unborn heir." The necromancer rushed in, corrupted blade held high, and Terciel brought his sword up to meet him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sabrine stumbled through the trees, the hem of her dress catching on brambles. The sun was setting, and it was getting harder to see in the long shadows and dim light. Another contraction caused her to pause and bend over, gasping for breath.

When it had passed she looked up, blinked, and scrubbed at her eyes. There in the distance was the unmistakeable wavering light of a campfire. Sabrine smiled, and broke out into a staggering run.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Abhorsen parried another blow from Caim, whose black blade steamed slightly in the cold air. Although the necromancer did not look very impressive, his skill with a sword was amazing. It was all Terciel could do to block and parry the clever strikes, unable to launch an attack of his own. He was forced back several steps as Caim rained blows upon him from all directions. With an almost careless flick, the necromancer disarmed his opponent.

In desperation, Terciel shouted a Charter mark, which shot blazing into Caim's eyes. As the necromancer scrabbled at his face, Terciel lunged for his sword and swiped, severing Caim's leg at the knee. The necromancer screamed as he fell, black blood spurting from the stump, and Terciel drove his sword two-handed through Caim's chest.

He felt the necromancer die, and cleaned his sword before sheathing it. Terciel leaned up against a tree, completely exhausted, and closed his eyes.

His Death sense twinged, and the Abhorsen's head shot up in horrified realization: a spark had dimmed and gone out. He had sensed Sabrine's death.

Terciel pulled up the hood of his cloak and broke into a run.

Dark clouds rumbled above him, and a steady rain began to fall.

_A/N: Poor Terciel! We know what he will find. One more chapter, folks. Reviews are lovely._


	6. Sabriel

_A/N: The final chapter at last. Thanks so much for reading this far; I applaud you. And to all people who reviewed – you're so cool!_

_Disclaimer: None of this is mine, especially since one scene is adapted from the book._

**Chapter 6: Sabriel**

Terciel felt the baby die as he entered the clearing. He walked swiftly past the onlookers, heading straight for the fire.

"…shall be no need for baptism," the Charter Mage was saying. Terciel caught his hand as it reached up to brush the ash from his forehead.

"Peace! I mean you no harm." Terciel stepped into the light, noticing with grim amusement that the band of travellers did not trust his words at all. Hands darted to weapons, Charter spells were ready to cast, and all eyes stared at him hostilely.

Terciel ignored them, and moved to look at what remained of his family. Sabrine's face was peaceful in death. Rain pattered upon her pale skin, and Terciel almost felt as if he could reach out and wake her. But he knew that she was gone.

He looked next at his daughter nestled in the midwife's arms. She was small, having been born early, but the fine strands of hair on her head were jet-black. She still could be saved. He would not let Sabrine's sacrifice be in vain.

He turned back to the people, and lowered his hood. "I am called Abhorsen," he announced, noticing the effect that these words had on the listeners, "And there will be a baptism tonight."

"The child is dead, Abhorsen," the Charter Mage protested. "We are travellers, our life lived under the sky, and it is often harsh." The man crossed his arms obstinately. "We know death, lord."

Terciel smiled at the man's claim, not failing to notice the irony. "Not as I do," he replied confidently. "And I say the child is not yet dead."

The two men faced each other across the fire, and Terciel felt a ripple of pleasure when the Mage was unable to hold his gaze. A woman, the leader of the band, stepped forward and spoke into the silence. "So. It is easily done. Sign the child, Arrenil," she commanded. "We will make a new camp at Leovi's Ford. Join us when you are finished here."

As the people made to pack, Terciel turned to the midwife. "Wait," he called. "You will be needed."

The woman hesitated, then dutifully held the child out to Arrenil, the Charter Mage. He said angrily, "If the Charter does not–"

"Let us see what the Charter wills," Abhorsen interrupted, raising his hand.

As the Mage began the ceremony, Abhorsen prepared himself to go into Death. He paused when he realized that he would need to name the child. What should he call her? His gaze fell on the body of his dead wife Sabrine. As if from far off, he heard the Charter Mage cry: "By the Charter that binds all things, we name thee–"

Terciel's tongue seemed to move of its own accord, and found himself saying, "Sabriel." He smiled at the name, then closed his eyes, and went into Death.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Sabriel." The five-year-old girl looked up from her play.

Terciel smiled down at her. "Go back to the camp."

The child obediently scampered off, and Abhorsen turned his gaze back to the sky, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand. The green Paperwing touched down in front of him in the clearing, and a young Clayr sprang out to help an older woman to the ground.

"Aah…" groaned the old Clayr. "Good to have both feet on solid earth again."

Terciel grinned, and bowed. "Filris. You are most welcome."

The woman waved a gnarled hand at her young companion. "This is Mirelle, one of our best rangers." The Clayr nodded her blonde head, hitching her quiver more securely onto her back.

Terciel bowed to her as well, before asking, "Why have you sought me out?"

"It concerns your daughter," Filris answered, taking Terciel's arm as they walked slowly about the clearing. Mirelle followed them, a watchful guardian.

"What of Sabriel?" Abhorsen asked calmly.

The old woman turned her face to him. "The Clayr have Seen that we will need someone who knows Ancelstierre," she said frankly. "We do not know why, but something of great importance is happening there. Has happened there. Will happen there."

Terciel was silent. Send his daughter away? He loved her dearly, but he could not keep her always at the House, and he could not take her with him on his travels. And the time had come for him to leave the travelling band, for duty was calling him elsewhere. "I understand," he whispered finally. "She will go."

Filris nodded in satisfaction. "Another thing," she remarked. "We meant to tell you five years ago… Or five days ago? Anyway, the necromancer that attacked your wife was receiving information from inside the Glacier."

Terciel frowned. "The servant of Kerrigor, you mean? The necromancer Caim?"

The old Clayr gestured at the ranger. "Mirelle can inform you better."

"It was one of our own. A traitor," the young woman said stiffly. "She overheard the prophecy about your daughter, and informed Caim. He must have had some sort of hold over her, because she killed herself to avoid talking."

Filris shook her head sorrowfully. "Sometimes we focus so much on the workings of the Kingdom, that we overlook the troubles in our midst". The old woman sighed. "We apologize, Abhorsen."

"No need," Terciel said softly.

He saw the two Clayr into their Paperwing, and once it was gone from sight he turned his steps back to the camp. His daughter ran to him in welcome, and he scooped her up in his arms.

"Sabriel," he said, lifting her high into the air. "Do you know what a boarding school is?"

**End.**

_A/N: Finished! Now, let me explain all the little goodies: Filris is Lirael's great-grandmother. I'm sure you recognized Lirael's aunt Kirrith and mother Arielle as the two little girls in the first chapter. And Mirelle was mentioned in Lirael as the leader of the Clayr's Rangers. Goodness, there are nearly no original characters in this fic, are there?_

_So what did you think of it? If you've read this far, I would dearly love to hear from you. Reviews take so little effort but they still give me so much happiness. Go on, I dare you. _

_-Sanaryelle_


End file.
